


psych oneshots

by orphan_account



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Autistic Shawn Spencer, Canon Universe, Episode: s03e16 An Evening With Mr. Yang, Hurt Shawn Spencer, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Carlton Lassiter, Shawn Spencer-centric, Swearing, Trans Shawn Spencer, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27260521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: i’m actually going to add more than one chapter to this oneshot book, ok???? i swear-anyway uh. have some oneshots bc i’m bored and like writing-•SUMMARY OF EACH ONESHOT•-Chapter 1: Shassie - Shawn has a nightmare after An Evening With Mr. Yang, and Lassie helps him calm down.Chapter 2: No ship - Lassie, Gus and Juliet have some rough days, and Shawn likes to bake.
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster & Juliet O'Hara, Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, Burton "Gus" Guster/Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer, Burton "Gus" Guster/Juliet O'Hara, Burton "Gus" Guster/Shawn Spencer, Carlton Lassiter & Juliet O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter & Shawn Spencer, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer, Shawn Spencer & Karen Vick
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59





	1. somebody help me through this nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place a few days after An Evening With Mr. Yang, btw!

Shawn twitched in his chair, eyes screwing shut a bit harder. 

The man had fallen asleep at the police department, but when Carlton had asked Guster to wake him up and move him, the response he got was:

_“Oh hell no. Have you ever woken up Shawn, especially after he hasn’t slept in a week? Didn’t think so. You **don’t** wanna experience it. I’ll pick him up tomorrow morning,” _

And that was that. Guster had left his friend at the station, and the friend in question laid awkwardly on a bench next to Carlton’s desk. 

Carlton glanced up from his work, cocking an eyebrow at Spencer. He’d been twitching a lot in the past few hours. Right as he glanced up, Spencer shifted in his seat. He began hitting his head, mumbling incoherent nothings. He looked concerned - scared, even - and that was what called Carlton to look a bit closer at him.

By the time he had rolled his chair close enough to Spencer to touch his hand, the sleeping man woke up with a dry shout. He was breathing heavily, his eyes darting from place to place as his back stood rigid.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” Carlton asked, his tone softer than he meant it to be. He wanted to sound annoyed, he really did, but his mind was clouded with worry. Spencer caught his gaze and his shoulders slumped in relief. 

“Oh thank god, Lassie, you’re okay,” His voice was breathy as he pressed his palms to his eyes. “How’s Jules, and Gus? Are they okay?” He asked, his tone becoming quiet as he looked around for his friends.

“They’re fine, Spencer. Guster left an hour ago, and O’Hara just clocked out.”

“They’re safe, right?” Shawn made eye contact with Carlton, allowing him to see the worry and fear behind his eyes. 

“Of course.”

“And you’re safe?”

“Yes,”

“Good.” Shawn nodded, mostly to himself. “That-that’s good.”

Carlton waited a moment before scoring his chair a bit closer to Spencer and asking, “What just happened there?”

Shawn suddenly looked a bit more tense and Carlton worried that he’d struck a nerve, before Shawn tried his best to look nonchalant again. 

“Nothin’. All good here, Lassie.”

Carlton nodded slowly. “You looked like you had a nightmare.”

That same scared expression began creeping it’s way onto Shawn’s face. “Nightmare? Pssh, Lassie, now you’re being ridiculous. I barely even dream.”

Carlton nodded again. He waited for another moment before saying, “Come with me.” and standing up. He held a hand out to Shawn, which he took with a confused glance as he stood as well.

Carlton brought Spencer to a small room, it looked to be next to the interrogation rooms. It had a mini-fridge and a microwave, along with some headache medicine. Not much else.

“Here,” Carlton muttered, digging through the freezer of the mini-fridge and eventually finding a plush ice pack. “It helps.”

Shawn cautiously took it. “How can I be sure you didn’t, like, lace this with Mercury or something?” He half-joked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Spencer. If I were to try and kill you, It would be much more discreet than a mercury-laced ice pack.”

Shawn blinked. “...okay then,” He shook his head and wrapped the ice pack around his neck, the cool pressure taking some of the pain out from behind his eyes. “It... really does help. Thanks.” A soft smile began to form.

“I’ve found that after a nightmare, the best way to help calm yourself down is to put some cold pressure near a pulse point and drink something. I usually go for water, but I’ve seen some pick tea.” Carlton shrugged, a smile beginning to tug at his lips.

“Wha- I didn’t- How did you-“

“Relax, nobody else noticed.” Carlton lied. “You were tossing and turning for a solid fifteen minutes out there, muttering something about ‘her’.” He used air quotes. Shawn seemed to tense up.

“Who was this ‘her’, Spencer? A girlfriend? A suspect?” Carlton pressed, hoping he didn’t come off accusatory.

Shawn began fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I, uh... I have no idea what you’re-“ He cut himself off, pushing his wrist to his nose. “Y’know what? Fuck it. I had a nightmare about Yang, okay? What would’ve happened if we hadn’t figured her bullshit puzzles out in time, huh, Lassie? Would she have killed the waitress? Would she have killed my mom? Who knows! She’s insane! If she had killed them, it would’ve been my fault and I- I don’t think I could live with that, man!” His voice came out brittle, and obvious tears pricked his eyes.

“I’ve spent so much time forcing myself to remember that she’s imprisoned, we’re safe, but she just... _creeps in_ out of nowhere! It’s haunting!” His voice became quiet as he stared at the ground. “I can’t fucking stand it anymore, Lassie, I just can’t,”

Carlton felt like his heart had broken into a million pieces. “Spencer.”

Shawn looked up at him with broken eyes.

Carlton said nothing more, simply approaching Spencer and beginning to wrap his arms around him. 

“What? Lassie I’m- fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m fine.” Shawn protested a bit more before eventually melting into the detective’s arms. He began to let tears flow freely, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

“Shh, It’s alright. Just breathe.” Carlton half-whispered as he tightened his embrace. He sat his head on top of Shawn’s, a bit surprised that he was tall enough to do that.

After a little while of letting Spencer cry into his chest, the shorter man began to retreat. He wiped his eyes, not moving out of Carlton’s grip.

“Sorry,” His voice came after a moment, dry and tired.

“For what?”

“For this,” Shawn gestured at himself, at the room, anywhere his hand could point. “All of this. You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this.”

If Carlton’s heart hadn’t been broken earlier, it was now. “Spencer, look at me. While you may work with us, you weren’t trained like us- and don’t try to bring your dad into this. You know he couldn’t train you like a real cop. What I’m saying is, you’re allowed to be afraid. You’re allowed to be upset, to be nervous- it’s all justified. You just went through some serious shit out there, okay? Don’t be an ass to yourself.”

Shawn simply nodded, staring into Carlton’s eyes with a soft, slightly surprised smile.

“Thanks, Lassie.”

“Of course, Shawn.”

Shawn’s eyes grew wide, his smile following suit.

“What?”

“You called me Shawn.”

“Yes, well, it is your name,” Lassiter commented, his gaze turned away from the faux-psychic as he tried to compose himself.

“Yeah, but you’ve always called me Spencer. You never call me Shawn.”

Carlton thought about it. He supposed he hadn’t. Well, Spe- Shawn certainly felt it meant something, so Carlton was gonna leave it be.

“Does this mean I can call you Carlton now? Ooh, what about Carly? That’s so fun to say, it sounds bouncy.” Shawn echoed the word to himself for a moment before he switched to echoing it in his mind.

Carlton blinked, his brow suddenly furrowing to its normal, frustrated response to Spencer’s antics. A small smile tried to form on his lips, but he didn’t let it. It was nice to see that he was back to his old, moronic self again. 

“Get the hell off me, Spencer.”

“Whatever you say, Carly.”


	2. golden slumbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn knew what his friends liked.

Shawn knew what his friends liked. Food-wise, that is.

He knew because he had asked. It was the first thing he asked people that he intended to become close to, “What is your comfort food?” Some found it odd, others found it silly, but he always had a reason.

He had his own special way of showing that he cared. He wasn’t good with words, so actions had to do.

When Gus was having a particularly overwhelming day, Shawn would always make him coffee-chocolate muffins. They’d been his favorite since kindergarten. They also just so happened to be the first thing Shawn learned how to bake.

When Juliet was having a hard time with her family, Shawn would leave a couple of vanilla cupcakes with strawberry frosting on her desk. He made damn sure that she never knew who it was from.

Chief Vick was getting especially tired of his shenanigans one week, so he left her some lemon bars and a warm coffee with a little note that said “sorry! -your resident annoyance”. She never brought it up to him, but he wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t spot her smile as she sipped her coffee.

Lassie had been hard to crack. He didn’t answer questions so easily. 

“Is it… banana bread?”

“No.”

“What about mille-feuille?”

“No.”

“You strike me as a tiramisu kinda guy.”

“Still no. Are you going to leave me alone now?”

“Fine, fine. I’m gonna ask more later though.”

“I’m sure you will.”

It had taken Shawn weeks, but he finally found dear-old Lassie’s weakness: peanut butter gingersnap cookies. Simple enough to make, he supposed.

The next time that Lassie was having a rough morning, one of those mornings where nearly everyone was afraid of crossing him, he found a tiny stack of about four peanut butter gingersnap cookies on his desk. No context, only a note: “hope you’re feeling better”. No signature, no recognizable handwriting. He barely remembered his exchange with Spencer months before.

So sure, Shawn showed his love differently. None of them had it in them to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this mere hours before my alarm went off this morning so i am deeply exhausted, but i hope you liked it! please give me feedback and discuss headcanons with me in the comments, i’m so desperate to talk to other people who like this show


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